The Hands of a Stranger
by Angelic Fluffle
Summary: The hands of a stranger, when held out in kindness, can change a life forever. Gen, OC, one-shot


Day after day I sat there, waiting, waiting. For a way out of this hellhole. For another bite of food. For the next dirty scrap that would come my way. For the next infected cut given to me by a desperate orphan who had seen the grubby sustenance in my fingers.

But nothing came. As I got weaker, the times when my stomach was quieted grew farther apart, and I was left to rot on my little, torn blanket, broken cup in front of me in a hopeless offer of need. Women stepped around me on sharp high heels, shooting me disgusted looks, and men mocked me, knowing I was too far gone to be any source of entertainment.

My hands were thick with muck, built up dirt, and the scent of sickness. I couldn't tell you my hair color, only that it was stringy and long, untouched by scissors or knives. My face must have been a sight to see; untouched by wrinkles, but I may as well have been an old woman for all the filth that covered it. The only signs of youth were the smoothness of my gaunt arms and the lack of cracks in my voice.

This was the place I had spent my whole life, pulled from an equally destitute beggar, one who had just enough beauty left to sell for her next meal. God knows why she kept me. Perhaps it was a vestige of the life she had lived before, a mindless wish for a happy motherhood.

But in this place, such dreams are lost, and I can count on my fingers the days I have spent clean and happy. I cling to life simply for the sake of living, miserable and wondering.

I might have been about twenty. I spent my days at the mouth of a small alley, watching the bustling of the cleaner, happier part of town, wistfulness in my expression and my mind. My fingers were as thin and sharp as needles, and I hadn't eaten in a fortnight. I lived only because of the puddles of water that littered the street after a good rain, and because the summer warmth kept the deadly chill from my skin.

In front of me passed a group of six, rowdy and loud. At their front marched a smiling boy in a bright straw hat, so sunny that I could barely look at him. Behind him trailed a redheaded woman, her nose in a map as she directed the boy in front of her. A pair of strong looking men strode behind her, matching step for step, arguing about eyebrows and marimos. Lastly dawdled a curly haired boy and some sort of animal, watching helplessly and chattering to each other.

As they passed, something my way must have caught the eye of the blond man with the curly eyebrow, because his gaze focused on one of the restaurants that framed my little alley, before drifting to rest on me. I dropped my gaze in shame, wondering what he saw. A penniless, soiled beggar woman, who had lost the strength to even sit up straight, with an empty cup balanced in front of her.

They passed, and I quickly forgot about them in favor of my bloated stomach, curling in on it as hunger pains shot through me. When I deigned to look up, I saw that same blond man, exiting the nearby restaurant with a cup in his hand, a little plastic straw sticking up through the hole in the cover.

That was the moment my life changed.

He came to a stop in front of me, his serious expression a far cry from the annoyance earlier. This man, this wonderful man, knelt in front of me, holding the straw up gently.

"Milk," he said quietly, in a voice filled with only empathy. "I doubt your stomach could take anything else right now."

It might have been the sweetest nectar in the world, with how precious it was too me. I could barely cup it in my hands, but he kept it held up for me, letting me drink it dry. I could not ask for more, but he understood my question and shook his head. "I'll bring more later," he assured me, and I nearly cried right then. I did not believe him, not really, but I needed him to come back desperately.

Now that I had been stirred out of my hunger induced apathy, I felt the hunger and the misery afresh, and a light of hope, one I hadn't felt since I was a child, rekindled in me.

I closed my eyes, and for the first time in forever, I prayed.

_(the hands of a stranger)_

This man, whose name I learned was Sanji, was true to his word. He and his crew were on Ta'Kokoomahnoh for three weeks, for reasons he didn't disclose to me.

Despite whatever duties he may have had, Sanji continued to return to me, bringing first milk, and then thin soup. He brought heavier and heavier meals each day, always waiting for me to finish them, even once I had regained enough strength to hold them myself.

On the fifth day of his visits, he brought with him a dish of water and a clean cloth. He offered it to me in a silent question, and it took me several moments to realize what they were for. I flushed heavily, though I doubt he could see it, and took them gingerly from his hands. Sanji never gave me finger foods, and I suspected this was because of the dirt on my hands.

That night, I retreated into my silent little dead end alley and wiped off most of the dirt on my hands and face, sullying the cloth and water to the point where even the most desperate of scroungers would not have drunk it.

_(when held out in kindness)_

When Sanji came to me the next day, I saw him smile for the first time.

_(can change a life)_

On the eighth day of his visits, Sanji brought the reindeer creature with him, introducing him as Chopper, his ship's doctor. He couldn't have been more than a child, his face filled with an innocent naivety. I tried not to show my reaction when he flinched at my looks, but Sanji told him off harshly anyway. Chopper apologized profusely and examined me, telling him that I was recovering nicely.

He did, however, prescribe me several creams and bandages for all of my cuts and declared me lucky that I didn't have blood poisoning. "What's her name, anyway?" he asked as he packed up his meager equipment.

They both turned to me, and I shrugged. If I had ever had a name, I'd long forgotten it.

"That can't be right!" Sanji objected. "Such a lovely lady should have a lovely name to match!" Despite this, they were unable to come up with anything suitable before they left.

The next day, Sanji brought his captain.

Luffy was a boy with a smile like the sun and a disposition to match. I had seen them coming from all the way down the street, Luffy laughing with high, obnoxious carelessness. Sanji looked about ready to snap, due to the way Luffy kept reaching for that day's meal, only to have Sanji yank it back.

When Sanji finally set the dish down in front of me, Luffy actually stopped trying to get it and plopped down in front of me. "Hello!" he said. "My name's Luffy!"

I repeated my shrug from the day before, but he didn't seem to mind, instead reaching forward to take my hand. He began to babble happily about Sanji's food (and requisite stinginess); taking breaks to breathe once every couple of minutes. His huge grin never wavered, and I found myself smiling along, giving him a small, fragile upturn of the lips.

Then, to my shock, his smile actually outsized his head.

_(forever)_

One by one, I met the rest of Sanji's nakama. The curly haired boy was named Usopp, and he told me enthusiastic stories about his alternate personality, Sogeking. He did a good job of keeping his gaze on my eyes, despite the way his eyes glanced at my skin and bones appearance every once in a while.

The green haired man bickered with Sanji all the way through our meeting, giving me only cursory greetings. His name was Zoro, a three-swords-style blade wielder. The redheaded woman was a navigator named Nami, and she was accompanied by an elegant, raven haired archaeologist named Robin. Sanji swooned over them the entire time, and I was slightly jealous of their well-endowed beauty and healthy figures. Their other crewmates were unable to visit, due to the business they were taking care of.

On the fifteenth day, Nami took me to a bathhouse. She spent an hour coaxing me out of the alley, with Sanji's help, finally dragging my uncooperative form into the street. I felt so small and vulnerable, trying to cling to Sanji, but Nami made him leave, saying it was girl time.

The bathhouse was small and cheap, but still bigger than any building I had ever been inside of. Nami managed to haggle the cranky receptionist down to only a thousand beli, quickly dragging me to the empty women's bath before the old woman changed her mind.

The water was warm and clean, circulating constantly due to the pipes built under the tiled floor. Nami undressed without further ado, and I was left to poke my toes in the pool and debate in my head. It took me a while, but I finally shucked my raggedy clothes and sank into the water.

The water around me immediately turned dark, and I was assaulted by Nami and a hairbrush. A sponge was pressed into my hand, and I slowly scrubbed away the years of dirt I hadn't been able to get with the cloth Sanji had given me days ago.

Clumps of dead hair floated away as Nami mercilessly untangled my scalp, dunking me several times and squeezing an entire bottle of "free" (the woman had said 180 beli, but I already had the feeling that Nami wouldn't be paying for it) shampoo onto my head. Finally, she let out an exclamation.

"It's blue!"

I twisted around to see what she was talking about, and she held a lock of long hair in front of my eyes. Sure enough, it was a very dark blue, and it took me a minute to realize that it was _my_ hair. I touched it with trembling hands, feeling how utterly _soft_ and _clean_ it was under my rough fingertips. Nami was smiling as she finished brushing out my hair, though it did scare me slightly when she pulled a knife from somewhere and trimmed my hair with focused intensity.

My skin was dark, in a different way than the dirt that had covered me. It was even darker than Chopper's fur, pitted by scars and thin as bone but untouched by dirt. It took a while, but I finally was able to see my reflection in the water.

I have dark brown eyes. I hadn't known that.

_(all because of)_

Robin came, after the bathhouse, with new clothes. Just a simple dark dress and the necessary female commodities, but they were more than I'd ever had. If I shed a tear or two, Robin didn't mention it.

The two women didn't bring me back to my alley. Rather, they brought me to an inn across town, and explained that the proprietor would give me a job if I helped in the kitchen. The proprietor, a kindly middle aged woman, was amenable to the arrangement, calling me "poor thing" and "sweetheart".

It was there I found out that Sanji was the one who cooked for me, as well as his entire crew. I really did cry that time, head bowed over my meal as I let out a snotty mess of tears. Luffy came down sometime during my crying and sat at the table, thankfully ignoring my tears and calling for meat.

After that dinner, Luffy took my by the hand and made me look at him. With the most seriousness I had ever seen in him, he said "Your name is Sundari."

I burst into tears again.

_(the hands of a stranger)_

They left, just as planned, at the end of the third week. By then, I looked less like a skeleton and more like a girl, and I was able to come see them off. It was there I spoke the first and last words I'd ever said to them.

"Thank you."

Luffy just grinned, and waved. "If you really mean that, then get real healthy so that you can meet us again!"

I was crying yet again as they pulled out of the harbor, waving as hard as I could and beaming so wide that my jaws cracked.

It took me three years to save enough money to leave Ta'Kokoomahnoh. It was only one small island on the Grand Line, and there were thousands out there. I finally settled on one that was host to three large cities, and started a homeless shelter. I remembered clearly how hunger felt, and the joy that the Strawhats had brought me. I brought in them all: the addicts, the prostitutes, the children. I nursed each and every one back to health, finding jobs for them and giving them a chance at a happier life. I was uneducated, my health was still riddled with holes, and my social skills needed more work than could be fixed in one lifetime, but at least I had a chance.

One day, as I was shopping in the local bazaar, a crisp, new wanted poster caught my eye. People were gathered around it, whispering in excitement and fear. I came closer, and the first thing that caught my eye was the insanely high bounty.

Then, the name.

"Strawhat Luffy"

"King of Pirates"


End file.
